


like real people do

by winterfire22



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Lives, First Kiss, Fix-it fic, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Happy Ending, Kissing, M/M, Practice Kissing, Reddie, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, bike/hanbrough if u wanna read it that way, cannon compliant with the films, everything is compliant with the two movies except the fact that eddie lives, except also some stan details from the book bc i just, i rlly love book stan, kissin' in the quarry, lighthearted cute kissy stuff, make no mistake this IS a reddie fic, pov alternates between 3rd person stan and 3rd person eddie, richie tozier is a baby gay, stan is like the ambassador between his friends, stan is straight and sensible and willing to experiment but not really, the losers all love each other and i think that's very sexy of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-13 16:05:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20585216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterfire22/pseuds/winterfire22
Summary: it's totally normal to kiss your friends just to practice. right?.............guys, right????





	1. part one: kids ('86-'89)

_we should just kiss_   
_like real people do_

1.

“I totally would’ve beat you if we went another round,” Richie insists, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He kicks at a loose pebble, and after skittering around for a few seconds, it settles perfectly in the crack between two sidewalk squares.

“Sure. Go ahead and tell yourself that,” Stan returns easily. “You definitely would have won. I’m fine with that.”

“Rematch tomorrow.”

“We’ll see,” Stan says. He takes a look at his watch. “It’s almost six. Mom’s making spaghetti and meatballs. Do you want to come for dinner?”

“Sure. Cool. I’ll-a eat-a the spaghetti with-a the Uris family.” Richie pinches his thumb and his pointer finger together and shakes it at Stan.

“Was that supposed to be Italian?” Stanley asks, shaking his head. 

“It was supposed to be your butt.”

Stan doesn’t grace this with a reply. He’s learned along the years that ignoring him really is the best way to shut Richie up, or at the very least, get him to move on from whatever annoying joke he'd made.

“I saw Back to the Future the other day,” Richie blabbers on easily, proving Stan's method to be effective. “You know there was like, this whole thing where Michael J. Fox kissed his mom? Like when she was a teenager? Gross.”

“Gross,” Stan agrees. 

“That’s like disgusting. Can you imagine kissing your mom except she’s your age? Ew.”

Stan makes a face. “I don’t know what it’s like to kiss anyone. So no.”

“Ha, are you like, a virgin? What a loser,” Richie teases.

“So are you, we’re in the fifth grade.”

“I bet you’ve never even kissed anybody,” Richie pushes.

“Have you?” Stan asks, a sparse blonde eyebrow lifting.

“No,” Richie admits, sounding, for once, almost uncomfortable. 

They’ve come upon the Uris family home. Stan leads Richie around to the back door and opens it; as they enter the kitchen, he sees that his mom is still rolling meatballs.

“Hey, boys. Did you have fun at the arcade?” Stan’s mom asks, offering them a smile as she reaches into the mixing bowl for another handful of ground beef.

“Yeah, we had a good time. Is it okay if Richie stays for dinner?” Stan asks.

“Sure. It’ll be ready in twenty minutes. You boys can go play until then.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Uris,” Richie pipes up.

“Thanks, Mom,” Stan adds. He heads through the kitchen, Richie following after him. They make their way up the stairs and into Stan’s room, which is, as always, perfectly organized. A bird book sits on his neatly-made bed.

He reaches for it to put it back in its place on the book shelf. “What do you want to do while we wait?”

“I dunno. Play a game or something, I guess.” Richie sinks down onto the side of Stan’s bed, and it creaks under his weight. He shoves his glasses back into place. “You think other people our aged kissed somebody?” He asks.

“Bill did,” Stan points out. “In the school play.”

“Oh, yeah. Lucky motherfucker.”

“Don’t say that loud or my dad will hear,” Stan scolds.

Richie rolls his eyes. “Lucky guy.”

“Yeah,” Stan agrees.

“I wonder what it’s like,” Richie says. If Stan didn’t know better, he might have thought Richie’s cheeks were going pink. He pushes his glasses up again, even though they hadn’t fallen down his nose at all in the past few seconds. 

“It must be good, if everybody goes crazy for it,” Stan suggests. He sits down next to Richie, leaning down to re-tie his shoe. It hadn’t come untied, exactly, but it was loose, and it bothered him.

“Must be,” Richie agrees. “We could try it.”

Stan looks at him. Blinks. Runs the numbers. “Like, with each other?” He asks, frowning a little bit.

“Yeah. Girl mouths aren’t that different from boy mouths,” Richie reasons. “Then when we kiss girls we can have a better idea of how to do it. So we’ll do it better.”

“I don’t really want to kiss you,” Stan says-- but he’s considering it. (if i kiss richie now, he’s right-- i’ll know how to do it when it comes time to kiss a girl, and she won’t have to know it’s my first real kiss, and i can impress her. okay, maybe.)

“Yeah, dunkass, I don’t wanna kiss you either, but it would be helpful,” Richie says. “Only if you want to though.”

Stan frowns a little more. He runs the numbers again. He nods. “Okay. You’re right. It would be helpful.”

“Cool.”

He turns to look at Richie. Glasses, floppy dark hair, big eyes made even bigger by said glasses. Pale pink lips. Stan almost wants to laugh, but he doesn’t want to insult his friend, so he restrains himself. “So how do we do this?” He asks. 

“I guess we just do it,” Richie suggests, shrugging.

“Okay. On three. One, two--”

He leans in, and Richie does as well, and for three completely empty seconds, their lips press against each other. Stan’s eyes are open, and so are Richie’s-- and Stan can see that Richie feels as ‘nothing’ about the action as he does himself. It’s like they touched the pads of their thumbs together or something. (maybe you only feel anything from kissing girls, stan’s even-keel mind suggests; maybe girls’ skin feels different or something, or they smell better, because richie just kind of smells like sweat and pepsi)

Stan pulls away. Wipes his mouth delicately, even though both his lips and Richie’s had been pressed tightly shut the whole time they’d kissed.

For a moment, the two boys just sort of stare at each other. Stan’s eyes are narrowed slightly, his mouth pulled in. Richie looks kind of confused.

“That was dumb,” Stan finally says. “I don’t know why people like that.”

“Yeah,” Richie agrees quickly, shaking his head. “Stupid.” He laughs a little bit. “At least we know now.”

“Sure. At least we know.” (i really think i would rather not kiss richie ever again, stan thinks to himself; but oh well)

“Boys! Dinner!” Stan’s mom’s voice comes from the base of the stairs.

“Coming, Mom!” Stan calls back.

2.

Eddie drops his bike unceremoniously behind a bush and wanders toward the secret entrance to the clubhouse. He can see that the window is open-- the others must already be down there, or at least some of them. He nudges the trapdoor open and hops on down.

“Hey, look who’s all healed up, how’d you manage to lose the cast?” Richie asks instead of saying ‘hi’.

Eddie pulls the trapdoor closed and brushes off the front of his jeans. “Um, the doctor took it off, dumbass, that’s how you get rid of casts, I’m pretty sure that’s the only way.” He looks down at his right hand and wriggles his fingers. “Did you think I just cut it off myself? My mother would have a heart attack and that’s like so irresponsible it isn’t even funny. I would never do that.”

“Is it all healed?” Richie asks, grabbing Eddie’s wrist to examine it.

“Ow. Yeah but it’s still kinda sore so don’t manhandle me,” Eddie instructs, though he doesn’t pull his arm out of Richie’s grasp. “I just got it off this morning. My mom wanted them to leave it on for another week just in case but the doctor said there’s no point in doing that since it’s all healed anyway. I’m shocked she let them X-ray me ‘cause when I was a kid she always said X-rays give you cancer but I guess the doctor talked her into it ‘cause it was just really quick.”

“Glad to have you back in one piece, private Kaspbrak,” Richie says in a very important voice, dropping Eddie’s wrist and doing a sloppy salute. 

“Where’s everyone else?” Eddie asks.

“Bill can’t come ‘cause he has speech therapy in Bangor, Bevvie and Ben and Stan are studying for a big test, Mike is busy with farm stuff,” Richie recites. “Guess it’s just you and me, amigo.”

(typical, eddie thinks to himself; the day i get my cast off and i can finally play normal again, everyone is busy except for trashmouth)

“I call dibs on the hammock,” Eddie says, already making a break for it as he kicks his sneakers off.

“No ya don’t! Not that easy!” Richie grabs a handful of the back of Eddie’s tee shirt. Undeterred, Eddie twists free, arms flailing a little as he grabs for the hammock. He ignores the dull pain that seeps into the nerves of his right arm as he moves. Not without difficulty, he falls into the hammock.

Richie tumbles in after him, and the hammock swings around a little as they situate, shoulder to shoulder, their shoeless feet a little tangled up.

“I got a new comic,” Richie says, a little breathless. Neither of them bothers moving or even complaining about the proximity. They’re both too stubborn-- yeah, that’s what it is, it’s just stubbornness. 

“Lemme see,” Eddie demands.

“We can read it together.” Richie fishes the rolled-up comic out of his back pocket and opens it. 

“I already read that one, it’s not new it’s like a year old,” Eddie says once he catches sight of the cover. He squirms a little in the hammock. “I hope you don’t have lice ‘cause your hair is like practically touching my hair and I am _not_ okay with getting lice.”

“I don’t have lice, asshole,” Richie says, shoving his heel against Eddie’s shin.

“Well good keep it that way.”

“I heard Lizzie Dunning got lice,” Richie adds, turning the first page of the comic.

“I heard Lizzie Dunning made out with Victor Criss,” Eddie says. “I mean how gross can you get?” (at least i think it was her, who did i even hear that from, wait is that even real oh well it doesn’t matter i’m so bored i’m not gonna take it back richie will probably forget anyway)

“And she made out with Greta Keene,” Richie says.

Eddie freezes a little bit. “Lizzie and Greta made out? Like, made out made out?”

“Like suckin’ face made out. Bev told me. She overheard Greta telling someone in the girls’ bathroom.” Richie turns another page, even though as far as Eddie can tell, he hasn’t even been reading the comic book.

“You can _do_ that?” Eddie hears himself ask.

“What?”

“Like, a girl can kiss another girl?” (as he’s saying the words, they sound stupid, because yeah of course any two people can physically kiss each other, eddie just never really thought that--)

“People kiss other people all the time just to try it,” Richie says with a shrug. “Greta will kiss anyone. Probably she’d even kiss you, her standards are so low. She only says all that shit about Bev being a slut ‘cause she’s actually one and she’s trying to cover it up or something.”

“I have social studies with Lizzie Dunning,” Eddie says slowly, ignoring Richie’s jab. “She really kissed another girl?”

“Yep. They did it for practice.” He turns another page.

Eddie blinks a few times. “Shit. That makes sense I guess.” (you can kiss people just for practice? like your friends? like you can kiss your friends just for practice? maybe i should do that because otherwise when i kiss someone for real i’ll make a fool of myself and it’s not like mom is going to let me date until college so i’ll be like twenty before i kiss someone for real and they’ll be able to tell it’s my first kiss and it’ll be super embarrassing oh fuck)

“Anyway, if you ever wanna practice kissing, I can probably help you, ‘cause I know what I’m doing,” Richie says, a weird lightness to his voice.

“You’ve kissed someone?” Eddie asks all at once.

“Yeah, like a few years ago in fifth grade,” Richie says. “And then last night after you went to bed I was making out with your mom for quite a while and it got really steamy.”

“That’s disgusting,” Eddie dismisses. “Like dude that’s so gross. Why do you always say that? My mom would never kiss you anyway even if you were a grownup ‘cause you’re too annoying.”

“Offer stands anyway.”

“Like, you’d kiss me?” Eddie asks.

“Sure. Just for practice so you can know what it’s like.”

(i’ve never kissed anyone before, not even a little quick closed mouth kiss like bill and beverly did back in the elementary school play, i’m probably the last one out of the seven of us who hasn’t kissed anyone-- fuck i always kinda thought richie hadn’t either but i guess he has i wonder who he kissed but i’m not gonna ask ‘cause that’s just like lame, i would have thought ben wouldn’t have kissed anyone either but like he kissed bev in the sewer when she saw the deadlights to snap her out so i guess it really is just me oh fuck i don’t want to be the last one out of all of us)

“Okay,” Eddie says. “I guess I am kinda curious about what it’s like. We can try it. Just really quick.”

“Cool,” Richie says. Before Eddie can say anything else, the comic book is on the floor, and Richie is turning toward him, leaning into him, taking Eddie’s face in his hand--

(suddenly eddie is almost kinda scared but then richie goes for it and it’s too late to be scared because it’s happening and it’s)

(what the fuck)

One second, two seconds, three seconds, four seconds, five seconds. His lips move a little. So do Richie’s. He can feel Richie breathing against his face. He realizes his eyes must have closed somewhere along the way. Six seconds, seven, eight, nine.

Eddie pulls away, cheeks feeling warm. He fights the urge to dig his inhaler out of his pocket. 

Richie wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and turns back onto his back. The hammock sways from the movement. 

(oh my god, eddie thinks, he's wiping my spit off his face, that's so gross, my spit is literally on his face at least a little bit oh my god)

Richie settles back into his previous position. In a moment or two, the hammock stills. Eddie feels frozen in time, and frozen physically too.

(we’ve shared this thing a bunch of times because we’re both always too stubborn to move but usually it’s like my feet are by his head why are we sitting in it like this this time)

(oh my god i guess i also have his spit on my face of my god oh my GOD)

Eddie sits up a little, wiping his mouth too.

“Guess that’s what kissing is like,” Richie says, his voice weirdly quiet.

Eddie’s head whips around to look at him, his chest spiking toward an asthma attack. “You’re the one who’s kissed before, though, you knew what kissing is like!”

“I mean-- yeah, but, the other time, y’know, it was like, shorter and stuff,” Richie says clumsily.

Eddie blinks. His face really does feel hot. “Okay.”

“Anyway, I’m bored of hanging out in here, let’s go get ice cream or something,” Richie suggests, coming off the hammock gracelessly. 

Eddie watches Richie shove his feet back into his sneakers (the hammock has a No Shoes rule) and retrieve his comic book. He nudges his glasses back into place and straightens the Hawaiian shirt he’s wearing over his navy blue tee. “You coming, Eds?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, shuffling off the hammock; “yeah, let’s go, ice cream sounds good.”

3.

(would it be better if i bring it up, or better if i keep it to myself? stanley wonders idly as he makes his way toward the tozier family home. but even just silently asking himself the question answers it.)

He spots a quail and stops to watch her land in a beautifully-engineered nest in a tree. (should have brought my binoculars!) 

Stan doesn’t get distracted. He simply sees cool stuff and makes the choice to shift his thoughts, stop, and look at it. He could happily watch birds all day, but it’s four minutes to noon, and he’d told Richie he’d be at his house at noon. He likes to be early, so he continues on his way after a few seconds. 

(it’s confusing, is what it is, he ponders as he walks, back on topic. but then again there’s a lot about richie i don’t get. and that’s okay. this thing just requires a little investigation, i think, since it probably hurt eddie’s feelings and i doubt richie meant to do that.)

He nods to himself as he walks up the three stone steps to the Toziers' front door. He knocks twice; Richie answers within seconds.

“Hey-a Stann-o,” Richie says cheerfully, pulling the door wide open so Stan can come inside. “Where’s your bike-o?”

“It has a flat, and I don’t have the right stuff to fix it,” Stan explains as Richie shuts the door behind him. “I walked. Are your parents home?”

“Nope. Dad’s at a dentist convention in Portland this weekend and Mom’s shopping with her friend.”

Stan nods. “I want to talk to you about something.”

“Okay, well, better be quick, Stan-the-man, ‘cause the Quantum Leap marathon starts in two minutes.” Richie turns the TV on and plops down on the couch.

“Bill told me that Eddie told him that you called Eddie a girl,” Stan says, sitting down next to Richie and folding his hands on his lap. “You shouldn’t say mean things to your friends for no reason, Rich. Anyway, one of our best friends is a girl, and if she were around to hear that, it might hurt her feelings too.”

Richie’s mouth falls open in protest. “I didn’t call Eddie a girl! I told Eddie I _wished_ he was a girl. And it was just me and him getting ice cream alone, Bev was studying with you and Ben at the time, so she didn’t hear it and I didn’t mean it bad anyway.”

Stan blinks. Runs the numbers. “Why would you… want Eddie to be a girl?”

“I don’t know!” Richie practically yells. “It just came out of my mouth, it doesn’t mean anything, God, why don’t you ignore it like you ignore all the other stupid crap I say that doesn’t mean anything, huh?”

“Okay, well, that’s weird, you’re weird,” Stan says sensibly. The Quantum Leap theme music starts, so he decides to drop it for now.


	2. part two: grownups ('16)

_honey just put your_   
_sweet lips on my lips_

4.

When Eddie Kaspbrak made the executive decision that he was, in fact, going to go to Derry to meet up with his childhood friends, he also decided he wasn’t ever going to come back home.

Not that he told Myra about this little plan of his-- he’d just quietly packed up two giant rolling suitcases and a duffel bag full of all his important personal stuff, most of his clothes, and whatever else he’d wanted to make sure he ended up with. He’d piled these things up in the trunk of his car and driven away from their apartment for the last time. He figured it would be best to hold off on breaking the news to his wife until after they finished with the whole murderous demon clown hunting thing, though. He knew for a fact she wasn’t going to take it well, and for now, there are bigger fish to fry.

For example, Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier got tall. And grew into his sense of humor. And got successful. And… and _fuck_, that’s what.

But that really isn’t the Bigger Fish, actually, because of the whole thing about the demon clown that almost killed Eddie and his friends when they were kids is like, back with a vengeance, or something, and now they have to go after it all over again.

(haha! great! that’s just great! that’s JUST what my life was missing-- pennywise the motherfucking clown!)

His thoughts jumble around uncomfortably as he wanders through his hometown to collect his artifact.

Having dinner with his long-lost childhood best friends had been fun, of course. If he’d thought to remember them, he’d have missed them. No doubt about it. They’re pretty much the only friends he’s ever really made-- of course he would have missed them. 

Although things are kind of weird in a few ways. First of all, Stan didn’t show up and in fact offed himself in a bathtub. Secondly, the whole funny business with the fortune cookies. And third, of course, the weird dance he’d done with Richie-- the fact that he’d immediately piped up “I’m with Richie” when the guy had suggested leaving, the fact that once they got back to the hotel Richie was ready to bounce way before Eddie, but like he was _waiting_, like he was literally not going to leave without Eddie, _what the fuck was that all about?_

But then of course Bill had wanted them all to stay. So childhood instincts had kicked in. And they’d all agreed to stick around.

And then they’d revisited their old clubhouse and everyone ended up getting emotional about Stanley, so of course they were going to stay. They’d reminisced about the day Ben had shown them the place-- the coffee tin of shower caps and and the conversations about leaving Derry for bigger and better and brighter things.

Which sparked another old memory in Eddie’s mind.

The hammock. 

The hammock-- the ten minute rule which Richie broke, forcing Eddie to try to crowd him out since it was His Turn. But Richie was a stubborn motherfucker as a kid, so they’d just ended up sharing it. He didn’t even move when Eddie kicked off his glasses.

He grins a little at the memory as he approaches the parade set-up on Canal Street.

He’d kicked Richie’s glasses off, and he’d kicked Richie in the face (feet encased in white tube socks, of course), and Richie still hadn’t budged. 

Then, later--

(oh god, eddie thinks; it was the day i got my cast off. it was early fall. nobody could hang out but the two of us and we ended up on the hammock together again because-- oh yeah because we’re both stubborn bitches-- and then for some fuckin reason we kissed)

His face goes red. He stops in his tracks.

(richie “trashmouth” tozier was my first kiss, he remembers, his mind going cloudy-- _richie “trashmouth” tozier was literally my FIRST KISS_)

(they’d kissed in the hammock. they’d been sitting in it shoulder-to-shoulder that time instead of facing each other. and they had KISSED. on the FACE.)

(ohhhhhhhhh no)

Out of childhood instincts, Eddie pats at his pockets, looking for his inhaler. 

(that’s right dumbass, you don’t use one anymore, it’s just this damn town making you think you need it and awakening a whole host of other fun childhood trauma things, cool, anyway, you can have a few puffs off the inhaler you called in to use as a token)

He forces air into his lungs and stuffs his hands into his pockets. He finishes the route to Mr. Keene’s pharmacy (doesn’t that bring back memories!!!) where he collects the inhaler and has a nasty run-in with It in the basement.

Covered in leper grime (ew, ew, ew, ew, EW!!) he hauls ass toward the town house, his mind on staticky fritz, thinking about nothing but getting cleaned up.

“Eddie!”

He turns, startled by his name. Bill is catching up to him, walking a bike-- walking _Silver_. How’s that for fucking childhood relics?

“What h-happened to you, man?” Bill asks, stuttering a little, stalling on the H sound instead of sputtering over it like he used to when they were kids.

“What do you think?” Eddie asks, his voice more than a little hysterical. “It happened to me. The leper. This is such a fun little vacation! I’m so glad we came!”

“Hey, hey, take it easy, it’s okay,” Bill says. “I saw It too. I’m sure we all did. You aren’t hurt, right?”

“No, I’m not hurt, but I _am_ covered in some kind of mysterious unidentifiable clown sludge, so like I’ve definitely been better,” Eddie rants.

(and i just remembered my first kiss, and i just remembered the crush that went along with it, and i’m leaving my wife who will absolutely have a conniption when she finds out--)

“Eddie?” 

“Huh? Yeah? What?”

“I said, have you seen Richie?” Bill asks.

“Oh my god,” Eddie says, shaking his head, holding his hands up in an ‘I surrender’ gesture. “I know, right? Like, what the fuck happened there? He got so tall. He looks fuckin’ great, man. Like he really grew into his looks.”

“I mean is he back yet,” Bill amends, blinking, as the two of them make it onto the front lawn of the Derry Town House. “I saw Ben and Beverly go inside already-- they weren’t too far ahead of us-- but I haven’t seen Richie.”

“Oh,” Eddie says weakly. “No. I haven’t seen him.”

5.

Darkness hangs shakily over his consciousness. His chest hurts.

He can’t open his eyes. Not just yet.

(what the fuck is going on, he wonders groggily. who is carrying me. why am i being carried. what the fuck is going on.)

(oh yeah, eddie recalls; the fuckin’ clown. is it dead? fuckin hope so)

Slowly, drowsily, he starts to remember.

(the clown turned me into a kebob. i was cold. so cold. think i’m still cold. and richie was like holding a jacket to)

(to)

(oh fuck am i dead)

He fights for consciousness. It’s slippery.

(am i actually dead though? what the motherfuck is happening right now)

Two people, he realizes. He’s being carried between two people. Two sets of hands on him. 

(i’m definitely still cold)

(i’m dead aren’t i)

Fresh air. Crumbling sounds-- heavy, like a landslide or a demolition or

(or a house turning to dust)

“Richie,” he tries to say. His mouth barely moves. The sound that escapes is nothing more than half a whisper.

He pulls air into his lungs. Tries to open his eyes-- it works, just for a second. The world is dizzy around him. 

They’re talking, he realizes. His friends. Hungrily, he reaches for their voices, trying hard to tune in. 

“What do we do with his body?” Ben’s voice comes quietly.

“Maybe we should just take him to the Barrens and dig a grave,” Mike says slowly. "If we go through the authorities they'll have questions we can't answer."

He feels one set of hands tighten on him. “No, you guys, come on,” Richie’s voice pleads, deflated.

“If you have a better idea--” Mike suggests.

(i’m not dead, guys, eddie wants to say-- i’m not dead-- but he really isn’t sure actually, considering)

(considering how cold he feels and the fact that a fucking clown claw just stabbed through his chest, like, not that long ago)

But the pain he feels is dull. It isn’t ripping like it was before. 

“Richie,” he tries again. It comes out a tiny bit stronger this time.

“Did he just fucking talk?” This is Richie’s voice, frantic, and the hands that had tightened hold him closer-- “Eds? Are you alive?”

“Think so,” he mutters. His eyelids are heavy, but he manages to open them for just a second. 

“What the fuck--?” Beverly asks from some feet away.

“Eds, holy shit,” Richie adds, his voice thick.

“We need to get him to a hospital,” Bill says.

Richie and Ben-- it must be Ben, Eddie figures-- set him down gently in the dead grass in front of the house on Neibolt street. He shoves his eyes open again, pulling air into his nose. They’re all crowded around him, staring down, five sets of eyes wide.

“Hey, guys,” he says. “D’we get It?”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Richie says. His eyes well up and spill over. He takes his cracked, bloodied glasses off and rubs at his face. At the same time, Bill answers Eddie’s question; “We got It, Eddie.”

“Happy to see you’re okay too, asshole,” Eddie mutters at Richie, cringing as he sits up a little. He pulls at the hem of his shirt.

“Eddie, don’t--” Ben starts.

He yanks his shirt up to his chest. 

It’s like nothing ever happened at all. No blood, no wound, not even a faint scar to remember it by.

He blinks.

“Holy fuck,” Richie says, practically falling down onto him. “You scared the fuck out of me.”

“Uh, good thing we brought him out of there,” Mike says with an incredulous chuckle.

Laughing, smiling, crying, everyone closes in around Eddie.

+

Eddie doesn’t love the idea of cleaning up in the dirty quarry water, but he goes along with it, too tired to argue, too unwilling to put any distance between himself and his friends.

(we’re going to leave derry at some point and then what am i supposed to do, eddie wonders numbly as they look down at the quarry from behind the ‘no diving’ fence. i can’t go home especially now after all this-- there’s just no way, nuh uh, no way in hell, absolutely not.)

His wide brown eyes turn toward Richie. When they land, he sees that Richie is staring at him. The corners of his mouth twist up. He reaches for Eddie’s hand and squeezes it, just for a second.

Beverly kicks her shoes off and steps over the sign and the five men watch her fly through the air.

Before she lands in the water, Ben is after her. Bill and Mike too. Eddie fumbles with his shoes and his jacket, and Richie takes his button-down off-- Eddie is off the edge a second earlier, but they land at the same time, thick splashes a few feet apart.

As Eddie’s head bobs up, he feels limitless. Still cold-- colder, in fact, maybe, because he’s shivering a little bit now. But he feels alive.

A grin writes itself into his features. He turns to look-- there’s Ben and Beverly, splashing each other, taking each others’ faces in their hands, kissing. Mike, cleaning off his face. Bill, ducking back underwater. Richie, rinsing his glasses. They’re silent for a few moments as they all clean themselves up. Exhaustion is heavy in the air, but there’s something light in the air too-- a trace of that day in the summer of 1989 when they swam in their underwear and splashed each other and laughed together. 

“I guess it’s like when It was carving letters into my stomach,” Ben pipes up.

“Huh?” Bill says, a little breathless, having just popped back above the water.

“Eddie’s stab wound,” Ben explains. He pushes his dripping hair off his forehead. “When Bev broke the mirror, the wounds disappeared. And I know they were real before that. They had to be, for how bad they hurt.” He chuckles a little. “So-- it must’ve been the same thing with you,” he adds, meeting Eddie’s eyes. “We got rid of It, so the universe undid It’s damage.”

“I mean, it makes as much sense as any of the bullshit we just went through,” Bill agrees.

“None of it makes any sense,” Beverly says. “But that’s okay, because we’re all here, and we’re all fine, right?”

(stan isn’t here, and he isn’t fine, eddie thinks, but he doesn’t say this)

He can feel Richie next to him. He glances over. Again, he meets Richie’s eyes, and Richie smiles a little. 

(my first kiss, eddie thinks breathlessly as he stares back at his sopping wet childhood friend-- maybe my last kiss that felt like anything)

“You okay?” Richie asks. The others have fallen into a loose diaspora, swimming around, ducking under to rinse off further, floating.

“I’m fine,” Eddie says. It comes out sounding dumb as hell. “You?”

“I’m good,” Richie says. He does the dorkiest thumbs up Eddie has ever seen. The gesture builds its way into Eddie’s heart.

“You were my first kiss,” Eddie blurts out.

Richie blinks. Smiles a little. Nods. “Yeah,” he says. “That’s right. In the clubhouse.”

“I left my wife,” Eddie adds.

“You-- what, dude? For real?”

“Yeah. Forever. Done.” He nods a few times to drive the point home, neglecting to mention that he hasn’t actually told Myra that he’s left her.

“Good for you, man,” Richie says.

Before he can change his mind or wimp out, Eddie grabs onto Richie’s shoulders, yanks him a few inches down, and kisses him.

It takes a second for Richie to react, but the second he does, Eddie isn’t cold anymore. Even soaking wet. Not with those arms around him, that face against his.

Someone wolf whistles behind them. Eddie shoots a middle finger in their general direction and kisses Richie harder.

“You think _we_ should kiss now, Big Bill?” Mike jokes.

Laughter. The kiss ends naturally, and Eddie and Richie laugh too.

“Let’s get out of this freezing cold water and get some food,” Ben says, a brightness in his voice that lights up the whole quarry.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading :) please leave kudos and a comment if you liked it!!!  
follow me at pramcine.tumblr.com or golden-geese.tumblr.com :)  
thanks for waiting so long for part 2!!! i had to wait until i could see it ch. 2 again to make sure i got everything right, and then some other stuff got in the way lol :')


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